r 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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1.0 


£  lit 


I.I 


140 


11.25 


1 2.2 

-ii 

m 

1.4    11.6 


I 


s/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


^ 

.*\-^ 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

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CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


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Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  IVIicroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


} 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibiiographiques 


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0 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommag6e 


I      I    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


D 
D 

D 
D 

D 


Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pellicui^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


D 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


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Encre  de  couleur  (I.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


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Bound  with  other  material/ 
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mais,  iorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
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Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfiimd  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6tA  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 
D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag6es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxe( 
Pages  ddcolordes,  tachet6es  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
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Showthroughy 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppldmentaire 


I  I  Pages  damaged/ 

I  I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

I  I  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I  I  Pages  detached/ 

I  I  Showthrough/ 

I  I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I  I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Only  edition  available/ 
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ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  dt6  film^es  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fiimA  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


12X 


16X 


20X 


26X 


30X 


S 

24X 


28X 


32X 


ire 

details 
les  du 
modifier 
ler  une 
filmage 


jdes 


lire 


by  errata 
led  to 

Bnt 

jne  peiure. 

apon  d 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  Congress 

Photodupiication  Service 

** 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
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Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
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first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


1 

2 

3 

L'exemplaire  fllmi  fut  reproduit  grfice  A  la 
gAnArositA  de: 

Library  of  Congress 
Photodupiication  Service 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  AtA  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soln,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet*  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimis  sont  filmAs  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustratlon,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmAs  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustratlon  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
derniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  seion  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ►  signifle  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  V  signifle  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diff Arents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cllchA,  11  est  fllmA  A  partir 
da  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessalre.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
iliustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

■%F:r^ 


L. 


1 


I 


THE 


CHILDREN   OF  THE  SUN 


AND 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


E$Y  WAT.       \»^^  V.V   \^ 


W.  C.  KING  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

SPRINGFIELD,    MASS. 
1886. 


/^' 


"t\s-,f^'-'j;^U, 


r 


P5'2>\5'] 


0 


j^ 


Entbrbd  according  to  Act  of  Conqrbss,  in  thb  Ybar  1886, 

Wfp.  WATSON,      ^    i-r-CCwOJU.     W^t- 


By 


•1   K-* 


In  thr  OrncB  of  thb  Lidrarian  op  CongHsss  at  Wasninctoh. 


(XM- 


B  Ybar  1886, 
T  Washington. 


?A^ 


:0 


.1 


CL 


-^1 


S-v^ 


INSCRIBED 

BY  THE   AUTHOR, 

AS  A  TOKEN  OF  LOVE  AND  THANKFULNESS 

TO   HIS    MOTHER, 

I.  B.  W. 


-^1 


I^S- 


,     Hi^ 


■mB^m^^^^^^.' 


CONTBNTS. 


The  CiiiLDHEN  OK  the  Sun, 9 

VEKY   LONCi, ^' 

MOOEKN    FlDELITV ^'^ 

MACDONALn's  Lament 54 

The  Comkt *' 

Bee  Eye's  Address  to  His  Sister,        .....  6l 

l'EDAf;o(iicAL  Cogitations ^3 

Farewell ' 

Lament  ior  Daw °7 

Maggie,         . '* 

COLLEGE  POEMS. 

That  Pianay, "^^ 

Sam  and  the  Organ  Grinder -78 

The  Freshman's  Monody, 8o 

The  Freshman's  Story, ^4 

The  Freshman  and  the  Horse, 89 

The  Junior's  Farewell  to  Greek, 93 

Sandy's  Lindon, 9* 

HouLTON  Academy,    . .100 


p 

k 


9 

47 
49 
54 
57 
6i 

63 
65 
67 

70 


75 
78 
80 
84 
89 

93 

98 

100 


^44|S*-^i> 


t'-vsivl-'' 


I'lJBI.ISHKKS'  NOTE. 


Wb  sGnd  farth  this  little  vnlumB,  firmly  be,- 
liBving  that  it  will  find  a  place  in  tiie  hames 
and  hearts  of  the  people,  where  it  Awill  he  treas- 
ured far  its  true  worth. 

W,  C,  KING   &  CD. 


tSr>rln«»'lfc'l<'.    Muss. 
IKWd. 


'  /m\ 


■c-:ae^' 


TJavs^r 


^ 


THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  SUN. 

O  him  who  traverses  old  ocean's  plain, 

And  braves  the  dangers  of  his  wide  domain, 
In  ail  the  world  wherever  he  may  go 
Where,  mountains  rise  and  foamy  torrents  flow, 
From  ocean's  wave  approaching  any  strand, 
No  picture  rises  more  sublimely  grand 
Than  that  unfolded  to  the  sailor's  view 
From  the  far  waves  of  the  Pacific  blue, 
Who  sees  in  panoramic  view  unfurled 
A  southern  fragment  of  the  western  world. 
Colossal  mountains  o'er  the  waters  rise 
In  rugged  contour  on  the  eastern  skies, 


.^mmamamsumi 


idMlMi 


MJiiiffiiiiwMiiiWW 


1; 


10 


,lli 


THE   CIllLDKEN    OF    THE   SUN. 

Peak  after  peak,  to  north  and  south  they  lay, 

Until  remotely  dim  and  far  away, 

Outlined,  uncertain,  filmy,  and  fair, 

The  shadowy  specters  of  the  lower  air. 

When  distance  her  weird  penciling  has  given. 

They  mingle  with  the  azure  tints  of  heaven. 

A  wondrous  cctinent.  where  Nature's  hand 

Hath  wrought  in  scale  magnificent  and  grand; 

Where  noblest  rivers  of  a  planet  pour 

Their  mighty  waters  on  Atlantic's  shore, 

Where  forests  aboriginal  extend 

So  many  leagues  they  seem  without  an  end. 

The  giant  mangrove  spreads  his  branches  wide. 

The  cocoa,  cinchona,  and  palm  beside. 

Through  their  dense  covering,  matted,  gnarled,  and  gray 

The  cheering  sunbeam  never  finds  its  way. 

Around  their  trunks  fantastically  twine 

The  tangled  network  of  the  flowering  vine. 


k. 


'4^iu 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 


II 


ly, 


\fcn, 
:n, 
md 
rand; 


nd. 
is  wide, 

narled,  and  gray 
ay. 

ine. 


The  supple  jaguar  dashes  through  the  toils, 
The  giant  b*  a  twines  his  massy  coils, 
And  varied  Nature  in  an  artless  mood 
Reigns  undisputed  in  her  solitude. 

Adown  the  Andes,  where  the  mighty  chain 
In  two  Cordilleras  is  rent  in  twain  ; 
Between  its  masses  sweeping  far  away 
A  mountain  valley  in  its  beauty  lay. 
The  fairest  spot  a  continent  has  known. 
It  claims  a  climate  that  is  aid  its  own. 
While  burning  summer  lies  upon  the  plain, 
Where  stately  palms  are  bordering  the  main. 
And  swaying  vines  and  feathery  cocoa  trees 
Wave  their  light  pinions  to  the  ocean  breeze  ; 
While  winter  muffles  as  a  gloomy  shroud 
Sierra's  summits  far  above  the  cloud, 
Where  sunHght  flashes  on  eternal  snow 


m 


.1  '; 


13  THE  CHILDREN   OF   THE  SUN. 

Unchanged,  untrodden,  while  the  ages  flow, 

This  lovely  valley  in  its  deep  repose, 

Nor  scorching  heat  nor  gloomy  winter  knows. 

But  flowers  bloom  and  feathered  warblers  sing 

Amid  the  verdure  of  eternal  spring. 

And  here  sequestered,  years  and  years  ago, 

Where  partial  Nature's  richest  bounties  flow. 

From  the  resplendent  orb  of  heaven  sprung, 

A  noble  people  lived,  and  loved,  and  sung. 

Their  city,  prosperous  and  happy  then, 

Filled  up  the  bosom  of  the  mountain  glen. 

The  fairest  city  on  its  sloping  side, 

The  Holy  City,  the  Peruvian's  pride. 

From  which  intelligence  and  culture  flowed. 

And  wealth  and  luxury  had  their  abode. 

When  was  it  built?    And  how?    We  may  not  know. 

For  that  was  many,  many  years  ago, 

And  myth,  tradition,  fable,  mystery, 


. 


THE   CHILDREN   OF  THE   SUN. 


13 


OW, 

nows. 
s  sing 

igo, 
flow, 
ung, 
ng- 

len. 


)wed, 


may  not  know, 


Have  settled  darkly  round  its  history. 
We  only  know  that  from  the  mountain  lake. 
Where  grows  the  ivy  and  the  rustling  brake, 
Came  Manco  Capac  and  his  sister  wife, 
To  give  Peru  a  grander,  nobler  life. 
The  sun,  the  parent  of  the  human  race. 
With  deep  compassion  on  his  beaming  face. 
These  his  loved  children  to  the  people  gave, 
To  teach,  reclaim,  to  civilize,  and  save. 
And  now  proceeded  the  celestial  pair 
O'er  mountain  height  and  valley  green  and  fair. 
Far  to  the  north  their  sacred  journey  lay, 
Far  through  the  lovely  valley  of  Yucay. 
The  mighty  condor  circled  overhead, 
The  hollow  passes  echoed  to  their  tread. 
And  oft  they  heard  descending  from  the  hill 
The  liquid  murmur  of  the  mountain  rill. 
Low  musical  its  poppling  waters  fell 


rl» 


».\ ' 


14 


THE   CniLUREN    OF    THE   SUN. 

In  the  deep  pool  the  Naiads  love  SO  well; 
And  often,  startled,  from  their  coverts  leap, 
Amazed  and  timid,  the  Peruvian  sheep. 
The  blooming  valleys,  opening  one  by  one, 
Invited  on  the  Children  of  the  Sun. 
But  Cuzco's  valley,  which  they  saw  at  last, 

All  other  beauties  they  had  seen  surpassed. 
A  tropic  sun  in  clearly  mellow  light 
Now  bathed  the  valley  beautifully  bright. 
And  warmly  fell  on  velvet  grassy  slopes 
The  promised  guerdon  of  their  fears  and  hopes. 
They  bore  a  wedge  whose  talismanic  spell 
Would  soon  the  destiny  of  a  people  tell. 
The  sacred  emblem  was  to  show  the  place     • 

To  found  the  city  of  a-  heaven-born  race. 
And  when  at  last  the  travelers,  weary,  gain 
The  northern  border  of  the  mountain  plain,- 
.  The  wedge  of  gold  from  out  the  willing  hand 


THE   CHILDREN   OF   THE   SUN. 


15 


11.     ■ 

leap, 

Dne, 

last, 
ssed. 


Sank  deep  forever  in  the  fertile  land. 
This  hallowed  spot  the  father-God  had  given 
To  raise  his  altars  to  a  sniiling  heaven, 
To  found  a  city  where  the  lavish  hand 
Of  nature  beautified  a  chosen  land. 
The  noblest  city  since  the  world  began, 
Beloved  of  God  and  very  dear  to  man. 
News  of  their  coming  rumored  far  and  near  ; 
The  simple  people  lent  the  willing  ear  ; 
Tribe  after  tribe  they  gatiiered  one  by  one, 
And  built  the  Holy  City  of  the  Sun. 
Their  rule  extended  6'er  the  mountains  wide. 
The  son  succeeded  when  the  father  died. 
Beneath  the  Incas'  mild  and  loving  sway 
Melted  the  years  in  centuries  away, 
And  peace  and  plenty  and  content  caress 
The  spot  a  Deity  had  deigned  to  bless. 


;j 


i 


THE   CHILDREN   OF   THE   SUN. 

One  day  the  sun,  descending  in  the  west, 
Far  o'er  the  waters  lit  the  frozen  crest 

Of  dim  Sierra,  towering  on  high, 

A  mighty  link  between  the  earth  and  sky. 

Beyond  the  height  his  mellow  splendor  fell. 

And  cheered  the  valley  that  he  loved  so  well. 

The  Sacred  City  with  his  luster  glows. 
Where  many  an  altar  to  his  worship  rose. 
Huayna  Capac  was  the  Inca  then, 
And  from  the  ocean  to  the  mountain  glen. 
In  humble  huts  and  palaces  of  stone, 
Throbbed  every  bosom  for  their  king  alone. 
They  knew  no  duty  but  the  Inca's  sway. 

.    His  to  command,  theirs  only  to  obey. 

What  means  the  throng  upon  the  mountain  road 
On  every  side  that  to  the  city  flowed  ? 
And  why  has  Cuzco  thrown  open  wide  • 
Her  massive  portals  to  the  coming  tide? 


THE    CHILDREN    OF    THE    SUN. 

To-morrow's  morning  they  would  see  begun 

The  feast  of  Raymi  to  the  summer  sun.  '. 

From  distant  borders  of  the  mighty  land, 

From  where  old  ocean  on  a  burning  strand 

Dashes  his  billows,  from  the  mountain  side, 

From  the  rude  cabin  where  the  waters  glide 

In  beauty  by  upon  a  shining  strand, 

The  pebbly  shingle  and  the  golden  sand, 

From  north  and  south  and  from  the  west  and  east 

They  meet  to  celebrate  the  summer  feast. 

A  motley  throng  upon  the  way  appear 

The  shepherd,  peasant,  and  the  mountaineer. 

The  eager  pilgrim  from  a  distant  shore 

Has  passed  the  flood  and  toiled  the  valley  o'er, 

Has  crossed  the  chasm's  deep  and  awful  night 

Till  brain  grew  dizzy  with  the  giddy  height, 

And  scaled  the  crags  of  each  opposing  peak 

Until  he  faltered  and  his  arm  grew  weak. 

2 

■    mil wiim  w  Higtiip tdirfm- " ' -T -i" —"»-«>■*"■-"  ■■■■■ 


17 


lit 


18 


THE   CHILURKN    OF   THE   SUN. 

At  last  he  stands  upon  the  mountain  brow 
And  Cuzco's  valley  is  beneath  him  now. 
Footsore  and  weary,  wan  and  travel-stained. 
The  goal  is  won,  Peruvian  Mecca  gained. 
And  heaves  his  bosom  as  his  glances  trace 
The  noble  city  in  the  vale's  embrace. 
The  granite  walls  encompassing  about, 
The  triple  towers  of  the  fortress  stout, 
That  ne'er  discloses  to  the  wily  foe 
The  subterranean  galleries  below. 
The  low-ranged  buildings  radiantly  bright. 
Like  silvery  lines  of  systematic  light. 
With  darker  spaces  of  the  streets  between. 
And  further  on  upon  the  heights  are  seen 
The  Inca  palaces,  the  wealth  displayed- 
Their  corner-stones  in  molten  gold  were  laid. 
In  some  the  bustling  busy  life  appears  ; 
Some,  dumb  and  silent  for  a  hundred  years. 


TIIF.    CHILDREN    OF   THE    SUN. 


19 


Glitters  without  the  customary  show, 
Within,  the  dust  of  many  years  ago. 
Their  mummied  owners  in  the  temple  lay, 
And  mothy  tinsel  moulders  to  decay. 
A  narrow  river  through  the  city  flowed. 
And  far  beyond,  upon  a  shining  road. 
Till  onward,  onward  in  the  dim  unknown 
The  vast  beyond  appearing  vaster  grown, 
At  last  it  mingles  in  the  mighty  tide, 
Earth's  grandest  river  rolling  deep  and  wide. 
The  Hill  of  Joy  beyond  the  river  lies, 
Where  bright  succeeding  terraces  arise. 
The  breath  of  blossoms  many  hued  and  fair 
Is  floating  ever  from  its  broad  parterre. 
To  southward  spreads  the  noble  vale  away 
With  foliage  bright  and  with  its  blossoms  gay. 
Cordilleran  masses  in  a  mighty  chain. 
As  guardian  barriers  of  the  mountain  plain 


» 


20 


,1  i 


-rilK   Cllll-UKKN    OF    THE   SUN. 

Surrotmcling  all.  the  borders  of  the  Skies 
Like  some  vast  amphitheater  arise  ; 
Whose  deep  arena  lying  low  between 

Is  softly  carpeted  in  Natures  green. 

For  miles  away  the  noble  vale  was  sprent 

With  myriad  homes  in  plenty  and  content. 

The  polished  granite  of  their  facades  shone 

Reflecting  back  the  splendor  of  the  sun. 

And  shining  streamlets  through  the  valley  stray. 

Like  silvery  serpents  winding  on  their  way, 

Harmless  in  beauty  by  the  homes  of  men, 

Their  limpid  waters  irrigate  the  glen. 

Socleai    he  air  above  the  valley  lay 

The  "Holy  Height,"  a  hundred  miles  away. 

Snow-capped  and  lofty  as  an  outpost  high 

Of  mystic  cloudland,  towers  to  the  sky 

In  empyrean  mrjesty  and  grace, 

As  ruling  spirit  of  an  holy  place. 


THE   CIIHJ'MEN    Oh    TI(K   SUN. 

Ami  to  the  eastward  spread  a  rugged  tract, 
The  rock,  the  grove,  the  rumbling  cataract, 
In  blended  harmony  they  sweetly  lie 
Beneath  the  azure  of  a  tropic  sky 
The  gentle  breezes  through  the  valley  bring 
The  hum  of  bees  and  fountains'  murmuring. 
The  sun  descending  in  his  lustrous  flight 
Had  lit  no  grander,  nor  a  prouder  sight 
Than  that  rich  valley  beautiful  and  wide, 
That  shining  city  on  the  mountain  side. 
The  darkling  crags  their  rugged  outline  throw 
In  protean  shadows  on  the  vale  below. 
The  beaming  sun  in  majesty  and  state 
Now  lit  the  gold  upon  the  western  gate. 
And  kissed  a  farewell  to  the  Inca  bowers, 
But  longer  lit  the  Cyclopean  towers, 
Paused  for  a  moment  on  the  mountain  height. 
Then  sunk  away  and  left  a  tropic  night. 


21 


U     ]l 


If       !i 


I 


il 


THE   CHILDREN    Ol-    THE    SUN.  , 

•Tis  morn,  but  ere  the  sacred  orb  of  day 
Shines  o'er  the  mountains  in  the  far  away. 
In  Cuzco's  plaza  where  he  was  adored 
A  mingled  throng  of  w(5rshipers  had  poured. 
The  Indian  courtiers  in  apparel  rare. 
With  costly  ornaments  and  jeweled  hair. 
Vied  with  each  other  in  the  quaint  array, 
The  pomp  and  pageant  of  the  festal  day. 
The  rustic  peasant  and  the  shepherd  dressed 
1,1  coarser  mantle,  to  the  plaza  pressed. 
Above  the  sedans  of  the  rich  and  great 
By  menials  borne  were  canopies  of  state. 
And  in  the  center  of  the  square  was  seen 
The  sacred  Inca  in  his  palanquin, 
Whose  regal  habiliment  in  every  fold 
Blazed  rich  with  jewel,  emerald  and  gold. 
Peru  had  waited  for  the  rising  sun 
Since  first  gray  streaking  of  the  day  begun, 


^^L.. 


THE   CHILDREN    OF    THE    SUN. 

And  watched  in  mute  expectancy  the  throng 
The  vermeil  pathway  he  would  pass  along. 
But  when  he  burst  upon  their  eager  sight, 
And  bathed  the  turrets  in  his  golden  light, 
Pealed  fro;n  the  throng  in  momentary  glee 
One  simultaneous  shout  of  jubilee. 
A  hundred  thousand  in  the  wild  refrain 
Made  the  fair  city  tremble  with  the  strain. 
The  pipe,  the  timbrel,  and  the  drum  combined 
With  strange  inventions  of  the  Indian  mind, 
Swelled  loud  and  louder  the  triumphal  cry 
That  made  no  pause  for  echo  to  reply. 
Their  arms  they  lifted  to  the  shining  height 
As  to  embrace  the  clear  and  holy  light, 
And  kissed  the  ether  limpid,  pure,  and  free, 
As  'twere  the  raiment  of  a  Deity. 
The  Inca  offered  to  the  sun  divine 
A  golden  vase  of  consecrated  wine. 


9$ 


It 

I 


THE   CHILDREN    OF    THE   SUN.       • 

The  first  observance  of  the  day  begun, 
He  sought  the  street  and  Temple  of  the  Sun. 
In  rich  profusion  was  the  shining  way 
With  flowers  strewn  and  with  banners  gay. 
And.  followed  closely  by  the  mighty  throng. 
Who  now  unsandaled  march  the  street  along. 
Majestic  priests  with  solemn  visage  trod, 
And  bore  the  offerings  to  the  Inti-God. 
The  opal,  jasper,  emerald,  were  there. 
Rubies  and  fruits  and  flowers  bright  and  fair, 
Sweet  scented  spices,  blossoms  of  agave, 
Shells  brightly  tinted  from  the  ocean  wave. 
But  one  alone  of  all  the  human  tide 
Might  pass  the  portals  of  the  Temple  wide. 
The  Inca  entered,  o'er  the  pavement  trod. 
And  knelt  before  the  image  of  his  God. 
While  weary  centuries  had  come  and  gone 
In  solemn  stillness  it  had  looked  upon 


^,^,*««rt«Ms*i*eff««« 


THE   CHILDREN    OF    THE   SUN. 

The  prostrate  kings  of  generations  past, 
But  fate  decreed  this  king  would  be  the  last. 
Art's  finest  touches  had  been  summoned  here 
To  paint  and  gild,  to  sculpture  and  veneer. 
The  sheen  of  sunlight  through  the  ample  door 
Flashed  full  across  the  tessellated  floor, 
And  gleamed  with  dazzling  and  holy  light 
On  his  own  image  radiantly  bright 
Emblazoned  broad  upon  the  western  wall 
In  massive  gold.     The  cornices  and  all 
The  fluted  columns,  crusted  heavy  o'er 
With  virgin  gold  from  summit  to  the  floor, 
Reflected  back  the  empyrean  beams 
In  floods  of  glory,  radiating  streams. 
Thick-sprinkled  jewels  flashed  upon  the  eye, 
Like  shining  stars  upon  a  golden  sky. 
Surpassing  lovely,  dazzling  to  behold. 
The  Coricancha  is  a  mine  of  gold. 


25 


"ff 


26 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 

A  few  more  Raymis  on  the  mortal  shore, 
A  few  more  joys  and  passing  sorrows  o'er, 
The  Indian  monarch  with  his  labor  done 
Was  called  away  to  mansions  of  the  sun. 
A  wave  of  sorrow  o'er  the  nation  spread, 
Unnumbered  mourners  wept  the  noble  dead. 
The  Inca's  son,  his  favorite  and  pride, 
The  brave  Atalpa,  ever  by  his  side, 
In  war  or  peace,  Tacomez  or  Yucay, 
Now  ruled  in  Quito,  to  the  north  away. 
The  elder,  Husar.  haughty,  proud,  and  vain. 
Was  left  in  old  Peruvia  to  reign. 
In  lovely  peace  a  few  brief  summers  close. 
Then  anger,  hatred,  jealousy,  arose, 
And  blind  ambition,  scantily  concealed. 
Impelled  the  brothers  to  the  fatal  field. 
Atalpa's  sword  in  devastation  fell 


THE   CHILDREN    OF    THE   SUN. 

On  fair  Peru,  his  father  ruled  so  well. 
•  At  Quipaypan  the  mighty  armies  met 
While  dew  was  sparkling  on  the  grasses  yet. 
The  fierce  Peruvians  on  the  Quitans  bore, 
Like  ocean  billows  on  a  rocky  shore. 
Flecked  was  the  valley  with  the  purple  gore. 
No  petty  province  urged  them  to  the  fray, 
The  mighty  empire  was  at  stake  to-day  ; 
And  towering  upward,  lofty  and  serene, 
The  mighty  Andes  looked  upon  the  scene 
Of  death  and  carnage  raging  at  its  base. 
And  frowned  with  porphyry  and  granite  face. 
Never  before  had  banner  of  the  Sun 
Been  borne  to  battle  but  the  day  was  won. 
Now  spears  and  arrows  like  the-driving  rain 
Were  poured  on  Quito's  battlements  in  vain. 
The  Sun-God,  sinking  in  the  western  sky, 
Saw  Quito  conquer,  the  Peruvians  fly. 


27 


28 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 

And  gentle  night  her  somber  mantle  spread 
Above  the  dying,  and  the  silent  dead. 


Atalpa  lay  at  Caxamalca  now, 
Glittering  his  eye  and  feverish  his  brow.; 

The  gloomy  hours  of  the  fateful  day 
Had  rolled  in  dull  uncertainty  away  ; 
Incessant  glancing  in  the  dim  afar 
To  catch  the  first  fleet  messenger  of  war, 
That  should  the  tidings  of  the  battle  bring. 
His  hopeless  ruin,  or  proclaim  him  king. 
And  such  a  brink  did  ever  mortal  know  ? 
Bright  heights  above,  a  yawning  gulf  below  ; 
Effulgent  temples,  palaces,  and  throne, 
A  mighty  empire  would  be  his  alone. 
Or  no  scant  nook  in  all  the  land  so  fair 
To  shield  a  ruined  renegade's  despair. 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 

And  hope  and  fear  alternately  possessed 
A  transient  triumph  in  his  troubled  breast. 

The  day  was  past,  the  draperies  of  night 
Girded  the  valley  and  the  mountain  height, 
But  yet  no  tidings  of  the  battle  came 
To  quench  the  tireless,  consuming  flame 
Of  dull  suspense  that  preyed  upon  his  soul. 
The  doubt  and  passion  baffling  control. 
Another  day,  another  night  appear, 
Each  lagging  hour  was  a  gloomy  year. 
And  supplications  for  a  victory  won 
From  pallid  lips  ascended  to  the  sun. 
Another  day  had  melted  in  the  past,— 
What !     News  of  battle  !     Has  it  come  at  last  i 
A  herald,  bursting  from  the  mountain  height, 
Sped  down  the  valley  like  a  beam  of  light, 
Nor  paused  a  moment  for  the  mighty  tide 


39 


J 


30 


THE   CHILDKEN    OF   THE   SUN. 

Of  mountain  torrent,  fathomless  and  Wide. 

One  mighty  effort,  as  the  supple  deer 
He  dashes  onward  in  his  fleet  career, 
But  pressing  nearer  to  the  city  walls, 
He  reels-he  staggers-heavily  he  falls. 
And  those  who  hastened  eagerly  to  lave 
The  reeking  forehead  from  the  crystal  wave, 
Pitying,  shuddered  at  the  soulless  eye 
That  glanced  them  no  intelligent  reply. 
The  mouth  compressed  that  might  forever  seal 
The  fated  word  none  other  could  reveal, 
Uncertain  pulses  and  the  shallow  breath. 
The  visage  ghastly  with  the  hues  of  death. 
AH  anxious  lest  the  faintest  whisper  slip 
That  truant  sense  might  fashion  on  his  lip. 
The  first  low  murmur  of  the  faltering  tongue 
Was  caught.     It3  echo  o'er  the  valley  rung. 
And  loud  and  wild,  voluminous  and  free, 


Mt)MB«.«>C%(^-i'M'  I"  «>**-*• 


THE   Cnil.nRF.N    OF   THE    SUN. 

Arose  the  shout  :  "Atalpa's  victory." 
His  proudest  dream  was  verified  at  last, 
The  hazard  over  and  the  struggle  past, 
The  triumph  perfect  and  for  him  alone 
The  ancient  empire  and  his  father's  throne. 
The  low-fringed  borla  round  his  forehead  drew, 
And  Quito's  prince  was  Inca  of  Peru. 

The  curious  working  of  the  human  breast 
Can  well  be  felt  but  hardly  be  expressed. 
It  labors  long  and  earnestly  to  clasp 
A  prize  that  withers  in  the  eager  grasp, 
Be  it  a  kingdom  or  a  simpler  joy, 
'Tis  yet  the  same,  a  transitory  toy. 
And  with  the  longed  for  victory  attained 
There's  yet  a  something  that  is  never  gained. 
Some  canker  lurks  in  pleasure's  soft  caress, 
No  heart  can  boast  its  unalloyed  success. 


3« 


__.._J 


32 


TME   C.ULUREN    OF    THK    SUN. 

The  prize  is  won,  but  howsoever  fair, 
Some  hoped-for  quality  is  wanting  there. 


We  seek  in  vain  Pome 


fascinating  hue 


Anticipation  pictured  to  our  view. 

Despite  the  scepter  of  a  mighty  land, 
Held  now  so  firmly  in  Atalpas  hand, 
A  deep  foreboding  lingered  in  his  breast, 
A  nameless  sadness,  and  a  vague  unrest. 

For  which  his  diadem  could  ill  repay, 

Or  gay  festivities  dispel  a^vay. 

The  deep  hosannas  echoed  wild  and  glad. 

The  people  shouted,  he  alone  was  sad. 


A  storm  was  brooding  o'er  the  gloomy  waste 
Of  Southern  O^ean.  and  the  billows  chased 
Along  in  tireless  and  sullen  flow 


UN. 


THE   rHII.I>RKN    OF   TIIK    SUN. 


33 


re. 


id, 

rcnst, 
irest, 

i  glad, 
sad. 


rloomy  waste 
Ns  chased 


O'er  coral  caves  and  alg;c  deep  below. 

In  those  dark  waters  rolling  wild  and  strong 

Labored  a  Spanish  galleon  along, 

Freighted  with  death  and  desolating  woe 

For  that  fair  land,  that  paradise  below. 

The  dark-eyed,  sturdy  soldiery  of  Spain 

liut  little  recked  the  heaving  of  the  main. 

Life  was  to  them  the  trifle  of  a  day, 

Theirs  to  enjoy,  and  theirs  to  fling  away. 

Wild  for  adventure,  if  it  only  lies 

In  paths  that  savor  of  a  golden  prize. 

Anticipation  imaged  every  day 

A  siren  halo  round  their  stormy  way  ; 

And  every  night  each  ragamuffin  there 

In  realms  of  vision  was  a  millionaire, 

And  saw  assured,  beyond  the  Andes'  chain, 

An  El  Dorado  easy  to  attain, 

That  led  at  last  to  devastation  dire, 

Through  seas  of  blood  and  desolating  fire. 

3 


34 


THF.   CMILDRUN    OF   THE   SUN. 

The  little  vessel  on  a  shining  Strand 
Grated  her  keel  and  poured  her  blighting  band. 

licside  the  ocean,  spreading  far  away. 
A  narrow  strip  of  emerald  verdure  lay. 

Abrupt  beyond  the  cultivated  plain 
Arose  the  towering  CordUleran  chain. 
The  valley  traversed  to  the  r^ountain  side, 


They  crossed  the 


chasm  and  the  torrent's  tide 


Plunged  in  the  deep  and  ominous  ravine, 
Where  nature's  wildest  carnival  is  seen. 
Luxuriant  grasses  o'er  the  teeming  ground. 
And  rank,  lush  creepers  radiate  around. 
The  gliding  serpent  was  a  tenant  there, 
Rainbow-hued  parrots  glitter  in  the  air. 
Thankful,  at  last  the  travelers  emerged. 
And  up  the  height  their  fiery  spirits  urged 
Their  weary  bodies;  up  the  beetle-browed 
And  rugged  cliffthey  clamber  to  the  cloud.: 


THK    (:IIILI>I<KN    OF    TIIK    SIN. 

The   liry  defile  of  the  mountain  passed, 
They  gain  the  frozen  pinnacle  at  last. 
With  glittering  eye  and  countenance  aglow, 
They  strain  their  vision  in  the  depths  helow, 
Nor  linger  where  Omnipotence  has  thrown 
The  shroud  of  winter  in  a  torrid  zone  ; 
Hut  down  the  east  declivity  they  pour, 
In  haste  to  pass  its  difficulties  o'er. 
Pizarro's  spirit  never  failed  to  cheer 
The  jaded  footman  and  the  cavalier. 
Long  days  of  labor,  and  the  little  band 
Has  gained  the  valley  and  the  promised  land. 
Advancing  over  Caxamalca's  street, 
The  earliest  clatter  of  the  charger's  feet, 
From  pavement  dull,  reverberated  through 
Forsaken  mart,  unpeopled  avenue. 
The  gloomy  wall  was  welcomer  alone  ; 
The  nest  was  empty  and  the  bird  had  flown. 


51 


aflii"'-'-*-"^-'"" 


36 


THE   CHILDREN    OF    THE    SUN. 

There  settled  darkly  o'er  the  mountain  plain 
A  cheerless  night  with  pattering  of  rain. 
The  storm-rack  hurried  ominously  by 
Above  the  city,  in  the  lurid  sky. 
The  little  force  was  bivouacked  to-night 
•Mid  danger,  cunning,  barbarism,  might. 
Did  some  vague  sense,  some  relative  of  fear. 
Assail  the  bosom  of  the  cavalier. 
Who  left  the  sunny  scenery  of  Spain 
To  hazard  all  upon  the  gloomy  plain 
OfCassamarca?    On  the  city  tower 
The  weary  sentinel  beguiled  the  hour 
In  vague  conjecture.     From  the  lofty  height 
Far  glanced  in  weird  obscurity  of  night 
His  piercing  vision.     On  the  plain  below 
No  fancy  paints  a  visionary  foe, 
But  camp-fires  twinkle  in  the  valley  nigh,- 
As  jewels  glitter  in  a  vesper  sky. 


•i^'Vi'iV'""*'"'^ 


Wlig  ■>  I  j  j-MWHil  iK'^'fflW 


"1 


THE    CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 

The  morning  dawned,  the  monarch  of  the  day 
Rolled  o'er  the  valley  in  his  shining  way, 
Dispelling  from  its  pinnarle  on  high,  ; 

The  last  dull  cloud  that  tarried  in  the  sky. 
No  lightc-  bounds,  hilarious  with  pride, 
The  glad  young  bosom  of  the  charming  bride. 
Who  hears  the  chiming  of  the  marriage  bell 
Proclaim  her  pleasure  to  the  rural  dell, 
Than  Spanish  bosom  when  the  trumpet-screams 

Dispel  the  unreality  of  dreams, 

And  call  to  arming  in  the  city  square, 

To  wait  the  coming  of  the  Inca  there. 

Pizarro's  plan  of  perfidy  and  crime. 

The  foulest  in  the  history  of  time. 

In  vain  they  waited  his  approaching  soon. 

And  morning  faded  into  afternoon. 

At  last  he  came  ;  the  retinue  of  state 

Was  seen  advancing  in  the  city  gate. 


37 


r 


Tf 


38 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE    SUN. 

With  crest  and  banner  waving  in  the  breeze, 
With  royal  livery  and  panoplies, 
On  through  the  streets  the  melody  of  song 
Rolled  with  the  tide  of  gayety  along. 
But  when  they  crowded  in  the  city  square, 
The  song  of  triumph  died  upon  the  air. 
The  Inca  seated  on  a  throne  of  gold 
Looked  round  the  plaza  eager  to  behold 
The  daring  spirits  of  a  foreign  land. 

Spanish  priest,  advancing,  took  his  stand 
Before  the  monarch,  with  the  sacred  Book, 
Beseeching  that  with  favor  he  would  look 
Upon  his  comrades  and  their  faith  beside. 
He  told  the  story  of  the  Crucified, 
And  how  his  deputy,  the  Pope,  to  Spain 
Had  given  that  American  domain. 
Then  paused  the  friar,  and  the  monarch's  eye 
Flashed  scorn  and  fire  as  he  made  reply  : 


?,!i!M>tt!AMIMWW»«a 


THE   CHILDREN   OF   THE   SUN. 

"  I  will  be  no  man's  tributary  slave 

In  this  free  land  my  God  and  fathers  gave. 

And  no  allegiance  will  I  ever  own 

To  any  being  but  my  God  alone. 

For  even  by  the  creatures  that  his  hand 
Had  formed  and  nourished  in  a  favored  land 
Your  own  Divinity,  as  you  proclaim, 
Was  put  to  death  in  infamy  and  shame. 
But  mine,"— he  pointed  to  the  sun  on  high 
And  flood  of  glory  in  the  western  sky,— 
"  But  mine,  eternal  as  the  heavens  blue, 
Looks  down  upon  his  children  of  Peru." 


39 


And  scarce  Pizarro  in  impatience  heard 
From  his  interpreter  the  closing  word, 
A  snowy  banner  from  his  bosom  drew 
And  waved  the  signal  fatal  to  Peru. 
From  every  by-way,  avenue,  and  hall 


40 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 


The  Spanish  masses  hurried  to  the  call. 
No  pulse  of  pity  in  that  hardy  throng, 
The  war-cry  echoes  universal,  strong. 
With  pike  and  musket  and  the  flashing  brand 
They  fell  upon  the  unofTending  band. 
The  stripling  soldier  and  the  veteran  form 
Went  down  together  in  the  whelming  storm. 
Each  fell  destroyer  with  the  cannon's  breath 
Plowed  ghastly  lanes  of  havoc  and  of  death. 
Its  volleyed  thunders,  resonant  and  loud, 
Betray  the  vulture  poised  upon  the  cloud. 
Fill  every  corner  of  the  valley  wide, 
Defile  and  cavern  of  the  mountain  side, 
And  start  the  vampire,  ere  the  day  has  left, 
From  his  dark  hiding  in  the  rocky  cleft. 
Resistless,  helpless,  with  a  stony  gaze, 
Dumb  with  despair  and  stricken  with  amaze. 
And  blinded,  stifle*^,  as  the  sulphurous  smoke 


THE   CHILDREN    OF    THE   SUN. 


41 


In  darksome  volumes  o'er  the  slaughter  broke, 
The  Indian  throng,  bewildered,  gaze  around, 
While  lifeless  bodies  thud  upon  the  ground. 
At  last  they  struggle  frantic  with  despair, 
But  neither  refuge  nor  escape  was  there, 
For  every  passage  to  the  open  plain 
Was  choked  with  masses  of  the  gory  slain. 
By  mighty  pressure  on  the  plaza  wall 
Its  stony  masses  totter,  and  they  fall. 
The  few  survivors  o'er  the  ruins  leap. 
With  desperation  o'er  the  valley  sweep. 
The  war-horse  followed  o'er  the  fatal  plain. 
His  hoof  was  gory  with  the  blood  of  slain. 
At  every  glitter  of  the  saber's  sway 
Another  life  was  left  to  gush  away  ; 
It  purpled  flowers  on  the  sloping  hill,     , 
And  blushed  the  bosom  of  the  laughing  rill. 


42 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 

Meantime  the  nobles,  in  a  loyal  ring 
Around  the  sedan  of  the  Indian  king, 
Wild  to  protect  their  venerated  lord. 
With  naked  bosoms  intercept  the  sword. 
•Tis  vain.    The  murderous  and  reeking  hand 
Cut  through  the  noble  and  devoted  band  ; 
Rude  tore  the  Inca  from  his  royal  place, 
And  dragged  him  o'er  the  ruins  of  his  race. 
And  at  the  clanging  of  his  prison  door 
He  threw  himself  upon  the  stony  floor, 
Deceived,  betrayed,  and  solitary  there, 
Wi'th  keen  remorse  and  passionate  despair; 
Bewildered  yet,  but  sensing  to  his  cost 
The  bitter  fact  that  everything  was  lost. 
With  gnashing  teeth  and  quivering  lip  he  .ay 
And  smothered  curse,  he  groaned  the  night  away. 


The  early  morning  paled  away  the  starsj 
And  golden  sunlight  through  the  prison  bars 


UN. 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE    SUN. 


43 


rd. 

ig  hand 

ind ; 

ice, 

IS  race. 

or 

or, 

•e, 

espair; 

3St 

lOSt, 

i;»^  V»«»  lav 

iij^    4*w    ••ijr 

le  night  away. 


Streamed  on  his  agony  and  suffering. 
But  brought  no  solace  to  the  prisoned  king. 
The  same  to  him  whichever  held  its  sway, 
The  gloom  of  night  or  glory  of  the  day. 

At  last,  through  clouds  of  desolation,  shine 
The  rays  of  hope,  a  light  almost  divine. 
Pizarro  bargained  for  a  mighty  fee 
To  draw  the  bolts  and  set  the  monarch  free. 
And  at  the  bidding  of  the  captive  king, 
The  willing  porters  from  the  coffers  bring 
The  golden  treasure,  glittering  and  vast 
Accumulation  of  the  toilsome  past. 
Millions  on  millions  of  the  shining  hoard 
Into  the  Spanish  treasury  are  poured ; 
The  grandest  ransom  ever  tortured  forth 
From  any  prince  or  potentate  on  earth. 


e  stars; 
•ison  bars 


At  last  the  golden  penalty  was  paid, 
But  still  the  time  of  freedom  was  delayed. 


44 


THE   CHILDREN    OF   THE   SUN. 

The  weary  days  rolled  melancholy  o'er, 
Each  day  as  barren  as  the  day  before, 
Till  jealous  doubt  was  brooding  in  the  air, 
And  doubt  gave  way  to  dolorous  despair  ; 
The  morn  of  hope,  erst  beautiful  and  bright. 
Gloomed  into  evening,  deepened  into  night. 
No  greater  height  could  misery  attain, 
No  lower  depth  could  desperation  gain. 


One  day  Atalpa  on  a  divan  cast 
Was  thinking,  dreaming  of  the  joyous  past, 
When  hurried  feet  upon  the  pavement  rung. 
The  bolts  were  drawn,  widely  open  flung 
His  prison  door.     The  cavalierros  came 
To  crown  their  course  of  infamy  and  shame. 
What  desperadoes  in  his  prison  rolled, 
Thirsty  for  blood  ipd  passionate  for  gold  I  • 
Eyes  that  were  blind  to  sorrow  or  distress, 


UN. 


air, 
lir; 
bright, 
night. 


s  past, 

it  rung, 

lung 

me 

1  shame. 

d, 

gold ! 

[stress, 


THE   CHILDREN    Or    THE    SUN.  45 

Rough-dealing  hands  that  knew  no  tenderness. 
A  single  glance  upon  the  traitors  cast, 
Atalpa  knew  his  destiny  at  last; 

At  eve,  the  night  bird  crooned  her  plaintive  strain 
O'er  a  lone  grave  in  Cassamarca's  plain. 
Only  a  shallow,  rudely-fashioned  grave  ; 
Around,  the  daisies  and  the  grasses  wave, 
But  hope,  ambition,  love  and  hate,  despair, 
Heart-sickening  anguish,  all  are  buried  there. 

O'er  fair  Peru  has  brooded  dearth  and  gloom 
Since  her  last  monarch  withered  in  the  tomb. 
The  gentle  scepter  from  the  Inca  hand 
Has  passed  away  forever  from  the  land. 
And  in  her  temples,  plundered  and  defiled. 
No  longer  worships  the  Peruvian  child  ; 
For  stranger  feet  are  traversing  the  floors. 


Mil  iiii  mill  wi ' "wn 


46 


THE   CHILDREN   OF   THE   SUN. 

And  Stranger  voices  echo  at  the  doors, 
And  where  the  image  of  the  Sun-God  smiled 
Now  stands  the  marble  Virgin  and  the  Child. 
The  sun,  as  ever,  in  his  shining  way 
Awakes  the  morn  and  closes  up  the  day. 
Hut  now,  un worshiped  by  the  simple  throng, 
Ungreeted  by  the  melody  of  song. 


VERY  LONG. 


^H-^^-^ 


very  long,"  said  the  little  boy, 

'  To  sit  in  the  school-house  old  and  gray, 

When  I  like  so  much  to  be  at  play  ; 

It's  oh  so  hard  !  "  said  the  little  boy. 

But  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  dogeared  book. 
Forgot  his  master,  stern  and  cold, 
Unconscious  how  the  moments  rolled. 

He  finished  the  task  he  undertook, 

And  when  'twas  over  his  merry  song 
Declared  it  wasn't  so  very  long. 

So  very  long,"  he  said  one  day. 
To  wait  till  I  become  a  man." 
But  he  scarcely  saw  how  the  moments  ran 


■JBWllW lltHI.II«Hllli»»*l.'< 


r 


•imi^ 


48 


VKKY    I.ONO. 

Till  he  found  him  far  on  manhood's  way  ; 

And  there  came  a  time  when  his  eyes  grew  dim. 
The  waverinK  pulse  and  failing  breath 
Threatening  dull  decay  and  death, 

Life's  joys  and  sorrows  were  naught  to  him. 
And  the  faltering  voice  that  erst  was  strong 
Said,  "  Life  itself  is  not  very  long." 


Beyond  a  river  that  darksome  rolled. 

In  a  land  where  shining  fountains  play, 
A  soul  was  welcomed  home  one  day 
By  angels  touching  their  harps  of  gold. 
In  the  presence  of  Him  who  died  to  save, 
Earth's  tears  and  struggles  are  no  more 
To  him  who  walks  the  blessed  shore, 
By  the  river  of  life  with  crystal  wave. 

For  it  matters  not  to  the  ransomed  throng 
Whether  Life's  day  be  short  or  long. 


s  way ; 

yes  grew  dim, 

g  breath 

eath, 

;ht  to  him. 

:rst  was  strong 

Iit 
ong. 

led, 

itains  play, 
one  day 
f  gold. 
1  to  save, 
ire  no  more 
ed  shore, 
wave. 

nsomed  throng 
t  or  long. 


MODERN  FIDELITY. 

nn^ROM  the  rtcrmy  coast  of  her  native  land 

She  gazed  far  o'er  the  blue, 
Where  the  waves  dashed  up  in  splendor  grand. 
Her  garments,  on  the  cold  sea  sand. 
Were  damped  with  ocean's  dew. 


She  loved  to  come  at  the  close  of  day, 

And  hear  the  billows  roar, 
And  watch  the  foaming,  seething  spray. 
Where  her  sailor  lover  had  sailed  away 
To  India's  distant  shore. 

4 


It  .i-ifi-JJ!  U""i-  ,1'  ' 


SO 


MODERN    FIDELITY. 

And  now  a  memory  surged  her  mind  ; 

One  standing  fair  and  tall 
Where  erst  the  flowery  jessamine 
Had  draped  in  happy  days  lang  syne 

A  cottage  garden  wall. 

They  stood  when  day  was  but  begun, 

Beside  the  wall  of  stone  ; 
But  when  the  west— the  dipping  sun- 
Betokened  that  the  day  was  done 
She  rested  there  alone. 


She  wondered  if  he  thought,  to-night, 

Of  loving  friends  at  home ; 
Did  he  keep  the  curl  so  brown  and  bright 
That  he  severed  from  its  mates  the  night 

He  left  that  cottage  home  ? 


Tho'  chill  winds  swept  the  rocky  heigbt, 
She  lingered  by  the  sea, 


ifffVjytT '""•"• 


mind  ; 

le 
syne 


)egun, 

g  sun — 
ne 


MODKRN    FIDELITV. 

And  watched  till  the  somber  wings  of  night 
Had  borne  away  the  fading  light 
In  the  waves  of  eternity. 


On  India's  distant  shore  was  he, 

Not  fondling  her  auburn  curl, 
Not  thinking  of  loved  ones  o'er  the  sea, 
But  kissing,  beneath  a  banyan  tree, 
A  cross-eyed  Hindoo  girl. 


5' 


3-night, 

1  and  bright 
IS  the  night 


She  wearily  waited  and  sadly  prayed 

For  a  glimpse  of  his  azure  blouse, 
Till  she  heard,  and  rather  than  be  a  maid, 
She  married  a  peddler  of  decent  grade, 
And  went  to  keeping  house. 


:ky  heiglit, 


'Twas  a  little  cottage  she  had  to  keep ; 
It  stood  beside  the  main  ; 


52 


MODERN    FlDELirV. 


And  oft  she  watched  the  troubled  deep, 
When  night-winds  cradled  the  waves  asleep. 
And  thought  of  her  love  again. 

.'  It  might  have  been,"  she  murmured  low, 
Te&r  mists  her  blue  eyes  dim  ; 
And  the  sea  birds  sweeping  to  and  fro, 
The  fitful  shadows  that  come  and  go. 
Too  oft  remind  of  him. 

•Tis  ever  thus.     Friends  change,  apart ; 

Stern  absence  gives  a  weary  pain, 
And  gossip  wings  the  fatal  dart 
To  rend  the  sinking,  hopeless  heart 

Of  one  who  waits  in  vain. 

And  love's  a  sacred  thing  that  few. 

Ah,  very  few  may  share  ; 
And  lovers  to-day  are  not  half  so  true 
As  romance  pictures  them  out  to  you, 

O  maiden  with  golden  hair. 


«1! 


deep, 
'es  asleep, 
n. 

ed  low, 


MODERN    FIDELITY. 

And  your  Jimmy  or  Sammy,  John  or  Carl, 

So  noble,  kind,  and  true, 
Keeps  a  wistful  eye  upon  the  girl 
With  golden  papa  or  brighter  curl 

The  while  they  cherish  you. 


53 


d  fro, 
go, 

apart ; 
'  pain, 


But  let  not  this  dishearten  you  ; 

Accept  the  trust  that's  given  ; 
For  love  that's  truly  pure  and  true 
Can  never,  never  be  for  you 

This  side  the  ports  of  Heaven. 


;art 


ew, 

so  true 
to  you, 

r. 


MACDONALD'S  LAMENT.* 


^^- 


r\  GLAD  was  the  day  when  in  childhood  I  wandered 
O'er  Scotland's  loved  healher,  so  joyous  and  free, 
And  followed  the  way  of  the  brook  that  meandered, 
To  list  to  its  song  as  it  flow'd  to  the  sea. 

0  happy  the  days  that  so  fleetly  pass'd  o'er  me, 

I  mourn  for  the  moments  that  now  are  no  more ; 

1  mourn  for  the  friends  who  have  pass'd  on  before  me. 

Whose  voices  on  earth  I  shall  hear  nevermore. 

Those  angelic  parents  whose  memory  I've  cherished 
For  wisdom  and  virtue  crown'd  each  honest  brow. 

With  them  all  ambitious  desires  have  perished — 
Earth  holds  nothing  more  that  is  dear  to  me  now. 


•  At  the  massacre  of  Glencoe,  Scotland,  in   1692,  Macdonald  escaped 
while  his  parents  and  many  of  his  friends  perished. 


macdonald's  lament. 


55 


£NT.* 

hood  I  wandered 
10  joyous  and  free, 
it  meandered, 
sea. 

[  o'er  me, 
ire  no  more ; 
d  on  before  me, 
levermore. 

I've  cherished 
I  honest  brow, 
perished — 
ar  to  me  now. 

1692,  Macdonald  escaped 
d. 


The  hopes  that  I  held  while  in  Life's  merry  morning 

Have  faded  away  like  the  bow  in  the  sky ; 
The  hope  that  is  left  me  is  bright  and  adorning 

Of  meeting  my  parents  immortal  on  high. 

I  fear  not  the  touch  of  death's  terrible  finger, 
Nor  fear  I  the  surge  of  the  dark  river's  tide ; 

When  by  the  loved  grave  of  my  sire  I  linger, 
I  long  for  the  time  when  I'll  lie  by  his  side. 

And  for  my  loved  mother  to-day  I  am  yearning, 
E'en  now  I  remember  instruction  she  gave ; 

But  now  that  loved  form  back  to  dust  is  returning. 
And  heather  grows  over  her  long-silent  grave. 

Old  Scotland's  fine  scenery  of  valleys  and  mountains, 
Its  flowerets  so  gay  with  delicious  perfume ; 

Loch  Katrine's  calm  breast  and  the  rills  and  the  fountains 
Receive  not  my  heed  like  my  parents'  cold  tomb. 


:il 


h 


ii 


56 


macdonald's  lament. 


The  whistling  winds  thro'  the  wild  rocks  resounding, 
The  waves  that  are  lashing  my  loved  native  shore, 

Seem  to  chant  a  sad  dirge  for  my  heart  as  they're  bounding, 
For  sorrow  shall  reign  in  this  heart  evermore. 


■i»iirnntiii.wiiiiii^<ili ■'  ^'■'  *■""** 


ks  resounding, 
I  native  shore, 
as  they're  bounding, 
evermore. 


?i^*ll^^5 


THE  COMET. 


/^   WILLFUL  wanderer  of  the  starry  waste 

We  greet  thee  from  realms  infinite  and  vast. 
Methinks,  with  all  thy  speed  ,       . 

Rushing  by  systems  in  thy  maddened  flight, 
And  suns  which  are  to  us  but  twinkling  stars, 
Coming  to  ours  at  last,  and  in  thy  haste 
Pausing  to  give  us  but  one  glimpse  of  thee, 
Thou'rt  lost  amid  a  wilderness  of  stars. 
Art  thou  a  stranger  here,  or,  as  we  think, 
Swept  through  our  system  many  times  before  ? 
Perchance  in  many,  many  years  agone. 
When  our  loved  land  o'ershadcwed  wide 
With  forest  giants  of  a  thousand  years 
Was  walked  by  other  men,  or  red  or  white 
We  do  not  know  nor  may  we  ever  tell, 


n 

1)1; 


eg  •  THE   COMET. 

The  giant  power  of  the  East  strode  forth 
And  dashed  to  earth  the  massive  masonry 
That  long  had  girt  about  Jerusalem, 
And  then,  perchance,  the  Roman  in  his  might 
Turned  for  an  instant  from  the  scene  of  flame 
And  gore  that  crimsoned  for  a  time  the  hill 
Of  fated  Zion,  and  beheld  thy  gleam 
Above  Rome's  eagles  conquering  and  proud. 
And  yet  again,  perchance,  when  haughty  Rome 
Tottered  upon  her  hills— when  Huns  and  Golhs 
And  Vandals  barbarous,  from  cabins  rude. 
From  Alpine  snows  and  winding  Danube,  came. 
And  poured  their  desolating  hordes  on  Rome, 
Like  dashing  billows  on  the  ocean's  shore. 
The  clang  of  Roman  arms  on  ruder  rung ; 
A  shout,  a  struggle,  inward  poured  the  tide, 
The  Empire  of  the  West  has  passed  away. 
And  hast  thou  shone  o'er  stormy  scenes, 
O  Comet,  wandering  when  the  earth  was  young, 
And  wilt  thou  circle  closer  round  the  sun, 


THE   COMET. 


59 


forth 
sonry 

his  might 
e  of  flame 
the  hill 

d  proud, 
.ighty  Rome 
IS  and  Golhs 
s  rude, 
anube,  came, 

on  Rome, 
I  shore, 
r  rung ; 

the  tide, 
:d  away, 
cenes, 

th  was  young, 
the  sun. 


And  dash  to  him  at  last  and  close 
Thine  eyes  of  fire,  and  thy  bright  career. 
And  leave  us  wondering  at  thy  ways  unknown  ? 
K'en  as  the  sage  philosopher  has  said, 
We  stand  upon  old  Ocean's  golden  strand 
And  gather  pebbles  as  a  thoughtless  child. 
And  o'er  the  boundless  deep  beyond  we  gaze. 
We  only  gaze  amazed  and  know  no  more. 

* 

The  gazing  through  the  glass  can  only  give 
Yearning  for  sight  and  knowledge  more  profound  ; 
Fain  would  we  leave  the  earth  and  moon  behind. 
And  leave  the  sun  and  all  his  circling  host. 
And  soar  as  on  Thought's  pinions  far  away. 
And  sweeping  through  the  corridors  of  space, 
And  traversing  the  broad  ethereal  field, 
Behold,  while  hurrying  by.  the  Milky  Way, 
The  Pleiades,  Orion,  and  the  nebulae. 
Which  now  we  know  in  changeful  vague  imagery. 
The  double  stars,  which  seem  almost  as  one 
From  regious  incomparably  remote. 


6o 


THE   COMET. 


Will  sever  to  a  space  that  words  alone 

Fail  hopelessly  to  tell,  nor  can 

Inr'Hnation  fathom  its  extent. 

While  teeming  millions  on  a  myriad  worlds 

Pause  while  we  hurry  to  the  great  beyond, 

And  wondering  behold  thy  sweeping  train, 

As  on  mysterious  through  space  it  glides 

Its  vast  proportions.     Then  the  glittering  gems 

Which  stud  the  realms  of  ethereal  space 

Will  grow  to  suns,  round  which  new  worlds 

All  silently  their  ponderous  fabrics  sweep. 

So  awful,  vast,  incomprehensible  ; 

And  yet  those  worlds  and  ours  are  but  drops 

And  atoms  in  the  ocean  of  infinity. 

And  mans  an  insect  on  a  little  ba'.l 

Placed  by  the  Hand  divine  upon  a  path 

Obscure  and  little  in  His  universe. 

And  now.  O  Comet,  take  me  back  to  earth, 

Yea,  back  to  little  nothingness  and  pride 

I  cannot,  will  not  tempt  thee  farther  on. 


\e 


t->^-4I^<^*' 


FEE  EYKS  ADDRESS  TO  HIS  SISTER. 


n 


worlds 
eyond, 
g  train, 
;lides 

:tering  gems 
space 
V  worlds 

sweep, 

but  drops 


path 

,  to  earth, 
i  pride 
ler  on. 


^^•^^•^ 


y  DREAMED  of  hume,  iny  sister, 

When  evening  shadows  fall, 
Where  the  peaceful  time  of  summer 

Throws  its  mantle  over  all. 
I  dreamed  of  home  just  as  it  was 

Ere  I  had  thought  to  go 
And  leave  the  scenes  we  cherished 

In  the  days  of  long  ago. 

I  often  hear  the  birdies 

That  sing  amid  the  grove ; 

They  remind  me  of  the  birdies 
In  the  trees  we  used  to  love ; 

Tho' sweet  they  sing  the  old-time  song. 
And  flutter  to  and  fro, 


'liil 


li:t 

Hii 


III 


umiimMv'arfTnr'eWi!  >■ 


52  BEE    eye's    ADUKESS   TO    HIS   SISTEK. 

No  birdies  swing  as  sweetly 
As  the  birds  of  long  ago, 

As  oft  I  sit  and  ponder 

None  sees  but  One  above, 
And  I  yearn  again  to  wander 

'Mid  the  scenes  we  used  to  love, 
To  lay  Lite's  duties  all  aside 

And  for  a  moment  know 
The  pure  and  hallowed  pleasure 

That  was  ours  long  ago. 


With  bright  associations 

Far  from  our  early  home 
In  the  wide,  wide  world  there's  pleasure 

Wheresoever  I  may  roam, 
But  brighter,  dearer,  happier 

The  joys  we  used  to  know, 
O  bonnie  Annie  Laurie, 

In  the  home  of  long  ago. 


S   SISTKK. 


r 

1  to  love, 

V 

nire 


le 

re's  pleasure 

im, 

:r 

now, 

go. 


|S|i%^!^.,4i^.,  fSf  ir;  :;^^V% 


■t>— <«^>-^^ 


PEDAC.OGICAL  COGITATIONS. 


f*. 


r\  BIRCHEN  tickler  from  the  forwSt  shrdc, 
I  sing  thy  praises  ever  fresh  and  rev,, 
A  trusty  helper  in  my  school  you've  xuuh, 
And  great  the  credit  I  ascribo  to  you.    f 

And  thou  art  no  respecter,  in  thy  way, 
Of  persons.     On  the  taper,  lily  hand 

Of  the  fair  maiden,  I  have  seen  thee  pla> , 
And  do  thy  work  impressively  and  grcrnJ, 

As  well  as  on  the  rough  and  horny  palm 

Of  some  young  Neptune  from  the  r/avc's  carets, 

Who  came  and  vintered  in  his  native  clime 
To  impress  the  people  wi  h  hii  vorthlesancss. 


.lil 


'^t 


■^1'- 


iH 


I 


f" 


.1   II  ii,i-|ii.iiiiiii8iiri"iii.>rf'rt-".f'"''' ■•"""""'  ""'  "''*"' 


64 


PEDAGOGICAL   COGITATIONS. 


And  thou  hast  labored  on  the  urchin  fist, 

Adorned  with  warts,  and  nails  in  mourning  all. 

And  grimy  dirt  that  soap  and  water  missed, 
When  closed  the  sardine  factory  in  the  fall. 


■  * 


Let  others  talk  of  ways  and  methods  new 
To  still  the  yaggcr  in  the  school  or  church, 

But  no  persuader  can  compare  with  you. 
Time-honored,  pacifying  forest  birch. 


Ah !  little  scholar,  you  may  never  know 
How  very  sorry  teacher  is  to  see 

Your  freckled  face  with  bitter  tears  aflow, 
And  stay  the  current    f  your  childish  glee. 

And  though,  to-day,  you  cannot  understand, 
Though  inconsistent,  it  is  surely  true, 

The  marks  upon  the  dirty  little  hand 
Will  be  a  blessing  in  the  end  to  you. 


■i  hm»mt  w  I  i  p  i  I  in W  wmuJiWiw^ 


ONS. 

1  fist, 

mourning  all, 
missed, 
n  the  fall. 

Is  new 
or  church, 
I  you, 
irch. 


know 

s  aflow, 
lildish  glee. 

nderstand, 
y  true, 

p 

ind 
I  you. 


^M^ 


FAREWELL. 


T"   BID  my  native  land  farewell 

With  deep  regret  and  saddened  heart, 
I  feel  a  gloom  I  cannot  tell 

To  know  that  we  are  soon  to  part. 

Indifferent  may  the  s'.ranger's  eye 
On  those  familii  r  sights  be  cast, 

That  would  in  me  awake  a  sigh 

And  stir  the  memory  of  the  past. 

I  leave  those  cherished  scenes  to-day, 
For  hope  resplendent  gleams  before. 

Changes  I  know  will  have  their  sway 
Ere  I  return  to  go  no  more. 

* 

Perchance  when  aged,  wan,  and  worn. 

And  Time's  deep  furrows  mark  my  brow, 

5 


66 


FAREWELL. 

I'll  seek  the  land  where  I  was  born, 

And  view  the  scenes  I  cherish  now. 

And  leaning  on  a  staff  I'll  tread 

With  faltering  step  and  heaving  chest 

The  paths  my  bounding  feet  have  sped, 
When  early  fire  burned  in  my  breast. 

Perchance  beneath  a  coffin  lid 

Life's  battles  over— who  can  tell  ?— 

This  worn-out  body  shall  be  hid 

Beneath  the  sod  I  loved  so  well. 

I  may  see  many  a  blooming  shore 

And  flowing  river  broad  and  grand, 

Thy  memory  yet  shall  cheer  me  more. 
My  loved,  my  cherished  native  land. 

Changes  may  mark  a  future  day. 
The  ocean  may  between  us  roll. 

But  time  can  never  wear  away 

The  early  memories  of  the  soul. 


wimmm 


-r-.iiTrr;*ri'''ir'-iM"""^"**'^- 


rn, 

sh  now. 


zing  chest 
e  sped,  • 
ny  breast. 

n  tell  ?— 

well. 

»re 

id  grand, 
z  more, 
itive  land. 

y. 

s  roll, 
e  soul. 


LAMENT  FOR  DAVY. 

-^^^^^ 
T'M  standing  by  the  garden  gate,  I'm  waiting  for  some 

cake, 

I've  fasted  every  day,  Davy,  since  you  made  your  fare- 
well bake. 

I've  seen  your  old  white  nag,  Davy,  go  up  and  down  the 
street, 

I've  heard  the  tinkling  of  the  bells  and  clatter  of  his  feet. 

He  scarcely  looks  so  happy  as  he  did  in  days  of  yore, 

There's  a  sad  expression  in  his  eye  I  never  saw  before ; 

His  nose  hangs  very  low.  Davy,  and  his  white  sides  often 
shake 

With  a  big  internal  sigh,  Davy,  as  he  brings  the  pies  and 
cake. 


yjM  It  .<y Tmnjpr,  '•^•^  ^t.4l.yii*/iMWfTmWHt  f ■J.'.'glTK^ '  "' 


r 


; 


68 


LAMENT   FOR    DAVY. 


I  guess  he  must  be  thinking,  while  jogging  to  and  fro, 
Of  a  better  place  hereafter,  where  all  good  horses  go- 
Where  they  raise  no  bread  and  pastry  but  oats  in  plenty 

grow. 
But  he  pulls  the  same  red  pung,  Davy,  along  the  same  old 

track, 
With   "bread"    and    "cake"    marked   on  the   side,   and 

"  pastry  "  on  the  back  ; 
And  he  jogs,  and  jogs,  and  jogs  along,  and  the  bells 

swing  to  and  fro, 
And  he  jogs,  and  jogs,  and  jogs  along,  just  like  he  used 

to  go. 
Like  faith  this  is  the  evidence  of  things  I  cannot  see— 
The  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  of  things  that  cannot 

be; 

For  now  a  stranger  daily  mounts  the  place  you  used  to 

take. 
I'm  waiting  for  some  cake.  Davy.  I'm  waiting  for  some 

cake. 


!5iT-j:tn5rT'?«»(«  :.-e-.-- 


ig  to  and  fro, 
•d  horses  go — 
3Ut  oats  in  plenty 

ilong  the  same  old 
on  the   side,   and 

ng,  and  the  bells 

;,  just  like  he  used 

5  I  cannot  see — 
things  that  cannot 

;  place  you  used  to 

n  waiting  for  some 


LAMENT   FOR    DAVY. 


69 


I'm  waiting  for  your  cake,  Davy,  I'm  waiting  for  it  still, 
For  Davy's,  I've  an  aching  void,  no  other  cake  can  fill. 
I  used  to  think  as  on  you  went  with  nature  kind  and  clever, 
Like  Alfred's  brook  of  which  we  read  that  you'd  go  on 

forever. 
But  now,  alas !   the  scene  is  changed,  on  this  cold  April 

day 

I'll  sadly  pull  my  eai-tabs  down  and  trudge  along  the  way. 

Davy,  we  miss  your  smiling  face,  we  long  your  hand  to 

take,    • 
We  honor  your  good  principles  — but  oh  — the  pies  and 

cake. 


\ 


p.^y.;  ^r«-^.y.T-XX^rrK»VVf!9V^^ 


ffll 


1! 


MAGGIE. 

[l-ROM   A   STORY   IN   HARPER's  WEEKLY.] 

rt)\ARK  the  world  to-night  and  wildly 

Torrents  down  the  falling  rain, 
Sad  my  heart  responds  and  mildly 

As  it  plashes  on  the  pane, 
For  I'm  desolate  and  lonely, 

Mists  are  gathering  in  my  eye, 
And  I  yearn  for  Maggie  only, 
Maggie  of  the  days  gone  by. 

Once  when  tempest  roared  above  me 
One  was  seated  by  my  side, 

And  with  her  the  one  to  love  me 
Looked  I  out  upon  the  tide. 


MAGGIE. 


71 


EEKLY.] 

and  wildly 


ng  rain, 


ildly 


y  eye, 

9 

;  by. 

bove  me 
ide, 
;  me 
:ide, 


And  when  lighining  glittered  brightly. 
With  its  weirdly  transient  shine 

Both  her  little  hands  "lay  lightly 
And  confidingly  in  mine." 

But  a  phantom,  grim  and  stately. 
Frowned  upon  us  from  the  air 

And  I  looked  and  wondered  greatly 
'Maggie  could  not  see  it  there, 

For  her  eyes  were  opened  mildly 
When  the  levin  lit  the  storm, 

While  my  bosom  beating  wildly 
Felt  a  strangely  vague  alarm. 

Ah  I  that  mocking  phantom  reft  us. 
Cruel  blew  the  icy  blast, 

Only  memories  it  left  us— 

Treasures  of  the  hallowed  past. 


^T^jnfe■i^gM^■'«iV^Mwg'a?ffiy^^«wajTa^^5'gy^^ 


72 


MAGGIE. 

Sparkling  eyes  have  dimmed  with  sorrow, 
Ruby  lips  have  lost  their  glow, 

Hopes  have  found  no  bright  to-morrow 
Since  we  parted  long  ago. 

Still  the  world  is  dark  and  dreary, 
Still  in  torrents  falls  the  rain. 

Still  my  aching  heart  is  weary 
As  it  plashes  on  the  pane. 

Still  I'm  desolate  and  lonely. 

Mists  are  gathering  in  my  eye, 

And  I  yearn  for  Maggie  only, 
Maggie  of  the  days  gone  by. 


c^^ 


itisr^-n'^Kxicg'iOTftiasw^i^''*^?^'''*'' 


J 


'H 


/ith  sorrow, 

glow, 

)-morrow 


:ary, 
rain, 


COLLEGE    POEMS. 


ly  eye. 


2  by. 


aiTO??-i'«sa5iS5!s»«ii«-"»>  »i»«»3»»e*!f-'- 


i^S)*"    i'^ 


-», 


-rse- 


COLIIV    UNIVKKSITV. 


r^,.,,.,-  J.    .ii|^j.,--.^'HJH"'"' 


?#>ll^y5 


THAT  PIA^^V. 

MUSIC  hath  charms,  I  will  admit, 
When  circumstances  favor  it. 
To  pass  the  merry  hours  along 
I  love  the  sportive  college  song, 
The  locust  on  the  railroad  tie, 
Or  "U-pi-dee"  or  old  "  Phi  Chi," 
And  with  my  spirits  blithe  and  gay; 
I  love  the  festive  pianay. 

***** 
At  thirty  minutes  after  ten 
We  tumble  into  bed,  and  then 
Just  as  we  glide  in  sleep  elysian, 
The  'habitants  of  South  Division, 


■  j  -if .  ifSi  "■ "  ;'t^«-.-''-»."*iiii  itfliit  I'Hi" 


(lUi 


76 


THAT   PIANAY. 


We  rouse,  an  audience  to  be 
To  strains  of  midnight  melody. 
Great  Zeus !  I  think  the  devil  must  play 
That  number  'leven  pianay. 

0  !  give  the  Thomas  cat  instead, 
That  used  to  warble  on  the  shed 
And  try  with  su^er-feline  power 
To  render  terrible  the  hour. 

He  howled  so  loud  in  midnight  calm, 

1  thought  he'd  bust  his  diaphragm. 
Yet  give  him  back  but  take  away 
That  sleep-distracting  pianay. 

Or  give  the  hurdy-gurdy  man. 
Surrounded  by  the  yagger  clan, 
For  he  comes  only  in  the  day, 
Yea,  give  a  cent  and  let  him  play  ^ 


l>WM..i.'.  .11 .'  .u;„Mi-.un.i  '11^'*  'J..:.'C?T™g'gg.'*°' 


ay.;,l'riiL(T«iHi-iili'ii«ii!''"i''* 


3y. 

il  must  play 


tead, 
shed 
iwer 

ght  calm, 

hragm. 

away 


THAT   PIANAY. 

And  let  him  turn  with  all  his  might. 
But  in  the  stilly  hours  of  night 
Don't  craze  my  sleep,  Orpheus,  I  pray, 
With  that  confounded  pianay. 

It  isn't  that  I  mind  the  song, 
Which  may  flow  merrily  along. 
In  fact  it  may  be  most  divme, 
With  "  Bingo  Farm  "  or  "  Baby  Mine,' 
Or  "Bonnie  on  the  Sea"  so  grand, 
And  rendered  by  a  Dexterous  hand, 
Yet  agony  no  tongue  can  say 
Lurks  in  that  hideous  pianay. 


n 


m, 
:lan, 

ay» 

n  play  ^ 


-^^^i 


.■♦•£ 


l»i;!U.l.H'!;jJ-.U>J."IMA'.'J.'g.?^'*»M"''' 


^j./^.'.MIWvH^^VV.l.lvi'rVai.Tg 


SAM  AND  THE  ORGAN-GRINDER. 


/^NE  pleasant  day  in  early  May, 
A  grinder  came  along  the  way 
To  play  his  little  song, 
The  eager  heads  were  popping  out. 
North  College  trembled  with  the  shout, 
"  Come,  grinder,  come  along." 


Sam  heard  the  racket  in  his  den 
And  started  for  the  door,  and  then, 
"  Hi  dar,  you,  get  away." 
"  Come  on,  come  on,"  the  echoing  cheer 
Sam  heard,  and  got  right  on  his  ear, 
As  slangy  people  say. 


SAM   AND   THE   ORGAN-GRINDEU. 


79 


-GRINDER. 

iy  May, 
J  the  way 

ing  out, 
h  the  shout, 
along." 


He  met  the  grinder  on  the  walk 
And  had  a  somewhat  violent  talk 

Around  the  music  box, 
But  who  on  earth  would  e'er  suppose 
That  Sam  would  smite  him  on  the  nose, 

Or  pluck  his  raven  locks!     • 

Great  Zeus  !  it  was  a  fearful  fray 
And  wild  the  battle  shout,  when  they 

Begin  to  scratch  and  pull, 
For  quite  a  radius  round,  the  air 
Was  black  with  snarls,  of  flying  hair 

And  Ethiopian  wool. 


3  den 
nd  then, 

;hoing  cheer 
in  his  ear, 


The  grinder's  organ  looked  as  tho' 
A  cyclone,  mule,  or  tornado 

Had  dashed  it  on  the  loam  ; 
He  shouldered  it  at  last  when  beat, 
Then  hobbled  feebly  down  the  street, 

And  Sam  went  limping  home. 


•*->^^(l(^«-* 


THE  FRESHMAN'S  MONODY. 

TIRED  Freshman,  thin  and  weak, 
I  sit  and  plug  away  at  Greek. 
My  student  lamp  is  burning  low 
As  the  weary  hours  come  and  go  ; 
An  atmosphere  of  chill  and  gloom 
Pervades  this  boxed-up  body  room 
And  makes  it  seem  a  living  tomb. 
Or  that  the  "  Prisoners  of  Chillon  " 
In  some  past  age  had  come  and  gone 
And  left  their  impress  on  this  floor, 
Those  gloomy  walls,  and  shaky  door, 
Which  for  to  vent.iate,  no  doubt,  . 
Some  Soph  has  kicked  the  panel  out, 


THE   freshman's   MONODV. 


8i 


[ONODY. 

lin  and  weak, 
at  Greek. 


r  low 


nd  go ; 

gloom 
/  room 

tomb, 
Chillon  " 

and  gone 
his  floor, 
laky  door, 
loubt, 

panel  out, 


Or  it  may  be  'twas  only  done 
To  give  the  Soph  a  little  fun 
In  plying  his  hydraulic  gun. 
For  very  often  when  at  work 
I  start  up  sudden  with  a  jerk, 
And  lo  !  I'm  in  a  watery  realm, 
It  patters  on  my  cerebellum 
And  then,  so  chilling,  so  malign, 
Meanders  calmly  down  my  spine. 

The  Seniors,  dignified  and  grave, 

Mfjestically  stalk  the  pave. 

The  Juniors  sweep  along  the  way 

Almost  as.dignified  as  they, 

The  Sophomore  jolly,  light,  and  gay, 

Treads  with  a  ditty  in  his  throat, 

A  squirt  gun  hidden  'neath  his  coat  i 

And  yaggers  unmolested  go 

6 


82 


li  ' 


THE    freshman's   MONODY. 

About  the  campus  to  and  fro. 
But,  ah!  whene'er  I. pass  along 
A  Fresh,  a  Freshy,  is  the  song 
And  from  each  window  light  and  free 
The  plashing  torrents  pour  on  me. 
And  Sam  will  grumble  day  by  day 
Because  I  wear  the  grass  away 
In  walking  distant  from  the  halls 
Where  showering,  limpid  water  falls. 
O,  if  that  janitor  but  knew 
What  'tis  to  feel  the  sprinkling  dew, 
To  jump  whene'er  he  leaves  a  door, 
He  wouldn't  gr-'mble  any  more. 


I  laid  some  apples  by  one  day 

To  cheer  me  as  I  toiled  away, 

But  Sophomore  robbers  found  rhy  store, 

I  never  saw  those  apples  mo-^e. 


TIIK    freshman's    monody. 

And  if,  to  cure  the  stomach  ache, 

I  get  me  something  good  to  talie, 

As  Paul  says,  "  for  the  stomach's  sake," 

And  lay  it  by  with  greatest  care, 

When  next  I  look  it  isn't  there. 

Thus  every  pleasure,  every  joy 

Is  taken  from  the  Freshman  boy. 

O  hasten  on,  ye  happy  day, 
When  Freshman  terrors  pass  away 
And  with  the  envied  exit  o'er, 
A  wild  and  dashing  Sophomore. 
I'll  wake  the  echoes  of  the  plain 
And  be  a  somebody  again. 


83 


r 


THE  FRESHMAN'S  STORY. 


WHEN  first  I  came  to  Colby 
And  the  shady  campus  struck, 
Though  I  had  some  discouragements 

I  felt  myself  in  luck, 
For  students  came  from  every  class 

And  shook  me  by  the  hand, 
And  tried  to  make  me  feel  at  home, 
I  tell  you,  it  was  grand. 


And  as  the  days  went  b  ',  they  tried 
To  show  me  their  regard. 

They  hoped  I  had  an  easy  time  ' 
And  didn't  study  hard. 


'k^. 


THE   freshman's   STORY. 


85 


JTORY. 

»  Colby 
Tipus  struck, 
agements 

jry  class 
hand, 
at  home, 
I 

they  tried 
ard, 
time 
i. 


They  treated  me  to  pea-nuts 
And  to  candy  every  day, 

And  when  I  called  to  see  them 
They  wanted  me  to  stay. 

They  liked  whatever  suited  me, 

And  why,  I  couldn't  tell ; 
I  never  saw  a  lot  of  chaps 

That  liked  me  half  so  well. 
They  didn't  keep  me  in  suspens,,*, 

But  soon  revealed  the  cause  ; 
They  wanted  me  to  join  a— well, . 

I  don't  know  what  it  was. 

A  Senior  took  me  by  the  arm 
And  led  me  to  his  room, 

He  smiled  on  me  a  happy  smile, 
Was  glad  that  I  had  come ; 


86 


THE  1-reshman's  story. 


His  friends  admired  me,  he  said, 
For  common  sense  and  piety, 

And  I  was  honored  with  a  bid 
To  join  a  Greek  society. 

Then  in  a  speech  two  hours  long 

He  told  me  of  its  worth  ; 
The  biggest,  grandest  Grecian  light 

That  shines  upon  the  earth. 
And  with  this  mystic  brotherhood 

United  I  might  be. 
He  said  that  I  would  honor  them 
And  they  would  honor  me. 

Then  other  students  came  along 
And  talked  for  other  cliques, 

And  some  were  men  of  'eighty-seven 
And  some  of  'eighty-six. 


KY. 

aid, 

liety, 

d 


THE   freshman's   STOKY. 

Now  each  of  these  societies 

Was  mighty,  East  and  West, 

And  I  was  quite  surprised  to  find 
Each  one  to  be  "  the  best." 


87 


long 

> 
an  light 

arth. 

;rhood 

them 
me. 

along 
;liques, 
ghty-seven 
;ix. 


Now  I  had  read  in  early  life 

The  stories  Morgan  wrote. 
And  very  naturally  indeed 

I  feared  a  William  goat ; 
Besides,  I  must  confess,  the  thought 

Produced  a  little  fright, 
That  I  should  climb  a  greasy  pole 

To  reach  a  Grecian  light. 

But  as  I  felt  their  fellowship 

Unsuited  to  my  mind, 
When  urged  upon  to  join  the  Greeks 

I  finally  declined. 
There  are  no  pea-nuts  now  for  me, 

No  candy  every  day, 


gg  THE    FRESHMAN  S   STORY. 

And  when  I  rail  upon  the  boys 
They  wi^h  I'd  go  away. 

Now  when  my  Livy  flunk  is  made 
In  melancholy  gloom, 

m 

And  when  I've  hunted  up  my  hat 
In  the  Foardman  Mission  room, 

And  when  i\e  dodged  the  element 
South  College  rains  so  free, 

I  trudge  me  sadly  down  the  street. 
For  no  one  speaks  to  me. 

Why  do  those  fellows  act  so  queer 

And  take  a  distant  tone  ? 
I  need  their  friendship  even  more 

Because  I  am  alone. 
Ah,  me !  this  is  a  funny  world, 

•  For  me  no  joy  awaits, 
Tis  rather  late  to  join  them  now, 
I  think  I'll  go  to  Bates. 


TORY. 


boys 
is  made 

m 

my  hat 
sion  room, 
;  element 
o  free, 
le  street, 
me. 

so  queer 
)ne? 
ren  more 

ivorld, 

s, 

lem  now, 

tes. 


^iWWl''JWjRW4iilIl!*!li-'S!§SIB)fflB   "  "1 


j,»»**!'^ 


'>. 


// 


.</ 


4&J- 

V***^* 


s''^^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


4^ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


'Mr.f^ 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


THE  FRESHMAN  AND  THE  HORSE. 

FRESH  who  came  to  Colby 
With  the  honest,  true  design, 
That  he  wouldn't  horse  his  'EXkdg 

Or  his  Latin,  not  a  line, 
Struggled  manful  thro'  September, 

Working  early,  working  late, 
Nor  in  sombrous  October 
Did  his  noble  zeal  abate, 

Till  the  great  election  battle 

November  brought  around, 
When  the  horns  and  booming  cannon 

Shook  the  colleges  and  ground  ; 
And  then  the  lad  grew  weary, 

All  his  exercise  or  play       '     - 
Had  been  ambling  down  the  sidewalk 

Just  exactly  thrice  a  day. 


...J 


90 


THE  FRESHMAN  AND  THE  HOKSE. 

His  spine  began  a  curving  out, 

His  chest  a  sinking  in, 
The  skin  had  shrunk  upon  his  face 

In  one  perpetual  grin ; 
His  form  grew  gaunt  and  thinner, 

His  ribs  began  to  show, 
And  he  scarce  would  make  a  dinner 

For  a  single  famished  crow. 

At  last  he  mused  :  "'Tis  fatal. 

My  case  is  growing  worse ; 
I  will  betake  me  down  to  Dorr's 

And  buy  a— yes,  ?  horse  ; 
I  might  get  one  in  college. 

But  I  think  I  won't  essay, 
For  fear  that  Campus  Editor 

May  give  the  thing  away." 

And  thus  the  Fresh  soliloquized, 
And  down  the  street  he  went. 

Soon  entered  Dorr's  establishment 
A  figure  lean  and  bent. 


er 


THE   FRESHMAN    AND   THE    HORSE. 

The  clerk  leaned  o'er  the  counter 
To- catch  the  words  perforce, 

And  heard  them  uttered  faintly, 
"  Please,  sir,  I  want  a  horse." 

Great  Zeus !    of  all  the  mockeries 

That  dash  out  hope  and  joy, 
He  laid  upon  the  counter 

A  little  wooden  toy  ; 
The  Fresh  looked  on  it  sadly, 

Then  huskily  said  he 
On  pushing  it  away,    "  I  want 

A  horse  on  Odyssey." 

The  guilty  Freshman  eyed  the  door 

And  every  nook  with  dread, 
Lest  some  Professor  lurking  near 

Had  heard  what  he  had  said. 
But  there  was  no  Professor  nigh 

The  evil  deed  to  note  ; 
He  clutched  a  horse  on  Odyssey 

And  thrust  it  'neath  his  coat. 


91 


92 


THE  FRESHMAN  AND  THE  HORSE. 

And  then  more  sly  and  panting 

Than  e'er  he'd  been  before 
He  hurried  to  the  campus, 

And  for  his  room  and  door. 
Joyous,  ending  now  his  run, 

To  gain  the  threshold  edge, 
Like  Tam  O'Shanter  when  he  won 

The  keystone  of  the  bridge. 


That  guilty  Fresh  is  happy  now, 

His  heart  is  light  and  free. 
No  cloud  of  sorrow  on  his  brow, 

He  feels  no  dread  enmii. 
He  tends  the  reading  room  and  gym. 

Is  ever  on  the  batter. 
That  form  so  ribb'd  and  gaunt  and  slim. 

Is  daily  growing  fatter. 


•*^^lp-^* 


;ym, 


id  slim, 


THE  JUNIOR'S  FAREWELL  TO  GREEK. 

(T)h,  Greek,  I  little  thought  when  first 
"^^     I  gazed  on  thy  distorted  characters, 
Looking  so  innocent  and  small  and  crook'd, 
With  tails  and  accents  in  a  jumbled  mass, 
And  all  thy  wild  jaw-breaking  complications, 
The  agony>  the  headaches,  and  the  sadness. 
Aye,  and  the  heartaches,  too,  that  thou 
Wouldst  bring  me  in  the  measured  flow 
Of  five  long  tiresome  and  weary  years. 
For  all  thy  movables  and  diastole 
Augment  enclitic  paradigm  and  all 
Hiatus  crasis  and  elision,  now 
I  don't  care  a  digamma. 


94  T"K   junior's    farewell   to    GREEK. 

For  should  I  live  so  long  until 

My  head  be  hoary  with  the  weight  of  years, 

Or  shining  with  a  scarcity  of  hair 

Like  some  professor  of  thy  literature 

Honored  and  venerable, 

And  ever  through  this  multitude  of  years 

Be  learning  Greek,  and  fling  away  my  life 

In  thy  weird  depths  inscrutable  eternity, 

Then  sad  equivalent  for  such  a  price 

Would  I  know  something,  and  be  able  then 

To  comprehend  and  point  the  places  out 

Wherein  the  ancient  authors  were  obscure, 

And  with  sublimely  idiotic  look 

Repeat  the  parrot  cry,  "  how  bea-  i  fil !  " 

And  thy  appendages  of  heathen  myths 

And  deities  and  legends  fabulous 

Can  but  remind  us  of  the  wondrous  tales 


:ek. 


THE  junior's    KARRWF.I.L   TO    GREEK. 


95 


years, 


years 
y  life 
lity, 

le  then 
;  out 
Dscure, 

fil !  •• 

ths 

I  tales 


(That  stirred  in  their  imagination  wild 
Our  youthful  blood)  told  by  the  pen 
Of  great  Munchausen. 
If  author  of  the  present  day  should  write 
Achievements  so  absurd  and  tales  outlandish, 
To-day's  great  classicist  would  frown  on  him, 
Then  to  his  musty  ancient  hobby  turn 
And  say  :     '*  How  elegant,  how  beautiful, 
How  entertaining.  Grecian  literature." 

The  world  improves  as  cycles  roll  away 
And  much  that  is  of  vantage  is  retained. 
The  truly  valu'ble  is  seldom  lost. 
And,  craving  pardon,  Greek,  if  thou  hadst  been 
The  vehicle  most  suited  to  convey 
The  human  sentiment  from  soul  to  soul 
Thou  wouldst  not  be  so  practically  dead, 
Nor  when  a  score  of  centuries  have  fled 


96 


THE  junior's   farewell  TO   GREEK. 


Send  back  thy  ghost  unsavory  to  haunt 
The  pallid  student  of  a  brighter  day. 


I  praise  the  steed 

That  bore  me  o'er  the  roughness  of  the  way, 

And  with  his  mystic  wings  across 

The  yawning  chasm  where  no  bridge 

Spanned  the  dark  gulf,  and  through 

The  gorges  intricate  and  riddlesome 

Resounding  with  the  groaning  and  despair 

Of  those  who,  honester  than  I, 

Had  struggled  hither  with  a  brave  intent 

As  footmen  do,  and  now  had  paused 

With  bruised  and  bleeding  feet  beside 

Some  darksome  torrent  they  could  never  pass. 

Others  by  reason  of  the  length 

Of  each  day's  journey  hesitated — stopped. 

So  one  by  one  from  out  our  rugged  path 


IK. 


It 


he  way, 


espatr 

itent 

le 

ever  pass. 

;opped. 
path 


THE  junior's   farewell   TO   GREEK. 

As  went  the  days  we  missed  them, 

And  then  with  sadly  given  parting  word 

Pressed  on  our  weary  way, 

Knowing,  alas !  too  well,  in  all  the  course 

We  ne'er  would  see  such  welcome  face  again. 

Nor  feel  their  fellow  sympathy  and  cheer 

Companions  of  our  sorrow  and  our  joy. 

Now,  Greek,  farewell. 

At  last  I  close 

Thy  thumbed  and  grimy  pages  with  a  sigh, 

But  not  like  Byron's  prisoner,  who  made 

Friends  of  his  fetters.     Not  a  happy  spot, 

No  bright  oasis  in  the  desert  drear 

In  all  my  reminiscences  of  Greek 

Will  turn  my  truant  memory  back  to  thee. 
7 


97 


I 


r 


'^<\?mj 


Jl^fe'i/9 


SANDY'S  LIN  DON. 


|T  Colby  when  the  sun  was  low, 

A  falling  sounded,  blow  on  blow, 
In  old  South  College,  where  they  go 
To  cut  up  all  their  deviltry. 
And  Sandy  saw  a  wondrous  sight, 
When  he  got  up  and  lit  the  light,— 
A  liberal  bin  of  anthracite 
Lay  by  his  door  invitingly. 


•\\- 


Now  Sandy  was  a  frugal  lad, 
And  great  economy  he  had. 
So  when  he  saw  the  coal—"  Bedad, 
Said  he,  "they  treat  me  lib' rally." 


•.s 


blow, 


And  Sandy  had  a  great  nightmare, 

And  dreamed  they  fired  down  the  stair 

All  things  that  happened  to  be  there, 

IJoth  portable  and  handy  ; 

Of  hods  and  base-ball  shoes  a  score. 

A  dog  and  the  cat  of  '84, 

That  fought  and  scratched  and  bit  and  tore, 

And  made  it  hot  for  Sandy. 


I 


SANIjyS    l.INDON. 

So  with  his  coal-hod  fast  arrayed, 

He  fell  upon  the  bait  they  laid, 

Hut  something  down  his  spine  that  played 

Cut  short  our  hero's  revelry. 


99 


.&^®/- 


HOULTON  ACADEMY 


PALLID  Luna,  through  the  rifting, 
Glances  down  from  cloudy  seas 
On  the  ti-ne-worn  walls,  uplifting 

Far  above  surrounding  trees  ; 
Pointing  up  with  thousand  fingers 

To  the  heaven  that's  bending  o'er, 
"While  the  student  fondly  lingers 
Near  the  old  familiar  door. 


And,  beside  the  well-worn  traces 
Of  the  facade,  come  in  view 

Shadowy,  misty  old-time  faces, 

Shadowy  forms  that  once  he  knew  ; 

And  a  pleasant  sadness,  stealing 
O'er  the  spirit  most  divine, 


1 


— ^.1 


ttng, 
seas 


o'er, 


knew; 


HOULTON    ACADEMY. 

Bears  him  back,  in  thought  and  feeling, 
To  the  days  of  old  lang  syne. 

Lo !  a  student  toiling  dreary 

Through  the  years  as  on  they  roll. 
Oft  discouraged,  sad,  and  weary, 

Presses  onward  to  the  goal-; 
Toiling  thro'  with  ancient  nations, 

Caesar's  vivid  Gallic  wars. 
Struggling  with  the  dull  orations 

To  the  Roman  senators. 

Where  the  broad  Euphrates  flows,  and 

Where  the  winding  Tigris  lay, 
With  the  ancient  Greek  ten  thousand 

Wandering  he  lost  his  way ; 
And  he  follows  eager  ever, 

By  the  low  descending  sun, 
By  the  Babylonian  river, 

And  the  Persian  battle  done. 


lOI 


I02 


i  i 


HOULTON    ACADEMY. 

And  Cunaxa's  hillocks  gory 

With  the  blood  of  thousands  flow 
In  the  old  Athenian's  story 

Of  the  struggle  long  ago, 
And  the  lips  that  in  the  morning 

Cheering  from  the  phalanx  rolled, 
Lay  with  evening  dew  adorning 
In  the  moonlight  pale  and  cold. 


In  a  land  of  Persian  strangers 

Weary  Grecians  rest  the  head 
Worn.with  toil  and  battle  dangers. 

Cyrus  numbered  with  the  dead. 
Still  in  fancy  Isle  Euboea 

Rises  to  their  eager  eyes, 
And  with  vine-clad  hills  Morea 
Nestling  under  sunny  skies. 


Still  there's  joy  for  labor's  wages, 
And  the  student  loves  to  dwell 


nOULTON    ACADEMY. 


ip3 


On  the  old  ^neid  pages 

Gifted  Virgil  wrote  so  well ; 

Lo  !  the  Grecian  armor  gleaming 
From  the  Epeon  decoy, 

And  the  fiery  banners  streaming 
O'er  the  homes  of  ruined  Troy. 


^ell 


And  the  hope  that  erst  was  given 

Ilian  Hector  could  not  save, 
And  the  Trojans  forth  are  driven 

Over  every  ocean  wave, 
Where  the  foamy  surges  tremble 

From  the  hollow  ocean  roar, 
Wrecked  and  weary  they  assemble 

On  the  Carthaginian  shore. 

And  the  student  still  is  bending 
O'er  the  gems  of  ancient  lore, 

While  the  evening  shades  descending 
Weirdly  glide  upon  the  floor 


ii 


i!  I 


104 


HOULTON    ACADEMY. 

With  their  phantoms  chill  and  dreary, 
While  the  hours  come  and  go 

Till  the  aching  brow  is  weary, 
Till  the  vigil  lamp  is  low. 

Now  'tis  over ;  and  he  lingers 

Near  his  alma  mater's  door, 
And  above  the  elmen  fingers 

Sway  as  in  the  days  of  yore, 
But  the  towering  walls  before  him 

Shall  no  more  their  story  tell,  . 
For  the  breezes  wafting  o'er  him 
Mingle  with  his  last  farewell. 


. — «■  I  Jiwinjiijtwaiiwwiwrt 


iju,..n-ij..i4tf"ny»gJ3!Jij!'!^-i^^l'-!'"''' 


ry. 


.^' 


■—-^mmaummm" 


